


Overdue.

by rxckestrxck



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Heartbreak, Love Letters, M/M, Neither does Stan, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sobbing, eddie does not live i am sorry, i cried writing this if that tells you anything, i dont know why i wrote this, i think i wrote this to try and cope with his death, its very sad, richie loses his love, same plot of it 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxckestrxck/pseuds/rxckestrxck
Summary: [For Eddie]No. No, that was stupid. Obviously it was for Eddie.[Classified. Get the fuck out.]That was a little too.. violent.He had to think. This wasn't even the hardest part, naming the stupid Google Doc. No one would see the title except for him. He was stuck on it, though. He hadn't even started writing the actual letter yet. His brain hadn't caught up there.[Overdue]He had to leave it at that. It was long overdue, the letter. So it fit. And it didn't give away what the document was about, from the title. It was fine. Overdue. Good enough for him.He had to fucking write this letter. He was leaving that night. He wouldn't be able to write it once he got there, once he was already there, in front of Eddie and all of his other friends. He wouldn't be able to think straight. Literally. And that joke might've made him laugh, but he was beating himself up for not focusing on what he needed to write. He'd get it done. Everything was packed. It was the last thing he had to do.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Overdue.

He wasn't really sure how to type it out.  
Or should he write it? He didn't fucking know. It was stupid. He did this all the time, for a fucking living. It should've been a little easier for the words to come to him. He'd been sitting on them since he was 13, after all. From being bottled up so long, they should've just typed themself up on that stupid Google Doc that he'd opened. Have you ever used Google Docs to write a 27 year old love letter? It steals your dignity and flees on little fairy wings. There's no pride in writing a very serious love letter in Google fucking Docs. [Untitled Document] it said, in the top left corner. He supposed giving it a title would make it even more serious. And it was! It was serious, he knew it. But the moment he named it, he knew that he was done for. That he had to finish it. And he would. He'd finish it. He had to.

[For Eddie]  
No. No, that was stupid. Obviously it was for Eddie.  
[Classified. Get the fuck out.]  
That was a little too.. violent.  
He had to think. This wasn't even the hardest part, naming the stupid Google Doc. No one would see the title except for him. He was stuck on it, though. He hadn't even started writing the actual letter yet. His brain hadn't caught up there.  
[Overdue]  
He had to leave it at that. It was long overdue, the letter. So it fit. And it didn't give away what the document was about, from the title. It was fine. Overdue. Good enough for him.  
He had to fucking write this letter. He was leaving that night. He wouldn't be able to write it once he got there, once he was already there, in front of Eddie and all of his other friends. He wouldn't be able to think straight. Literally. And that joke might've made him laugh, but he was beating himself up for not focusing on what he needed to write. He'd get it done. Everything was packed. It was the last thing he had to do.

...

Stan was dead.

...

The best friend that he _didn't_ have feelings for. He was gone. Richie was numb. He couldn't process it right now. He took his own life. Because he was afraid.  
Richie would've kept him safe. He would've kept his friend safe. He would've kept Stan safe. He would've kept him safe. He knew that he would've kept him safe. Stan would never know that Richie would have kept him safe. If only he could've seen him, could've given him a hug. Could've held his face and cried a little bit because it was Stan and Stan used to laugh at his jokes even when they weren't funny and he was there for him and Stan would've kept him safe and god Richie knew that he would've kept Stan safe he loved Stan and he would've kept him safe he didn't have to be afraid he was there for him he'd watch birds with him when no one else would because he knew what it felt like to be alone and he never wanted Stan to be alone he would've kept him safe-

...

Eddie was married.

...

He had a wife. They'd been married for a while. Richie got to learn that information within the first 30 minutes of seeing the love of his life again. It was funny, the letter was in his back pocket. He'd finally gotten it done. Had word vomited all over his computer and refused to read it over again because he knew he'd delete all of it and start over. But it was in an envelope. He'd sealed it. Wrote 'Overdue' on the back of it. He was going to give it to Eddie, that night. But Eddie was married, and he seemed happy. He didn't complain about his wife. All Richie could think to do was make jokes. Har har, use humor to cope, I'm a piece of shit kind of jokes. About his wife, his mom, his job. He spent pretty much the whole night working backwards from what he was trying to do.  
Eddie was handsome. He was cute, when they were younger. Cute enough to give Richie butterflies and stutter over his words like Bill when he'd ask Eddie to ride his bike with him to get ice cream. Richie thought plenty of boys were cute. But not Eddie cute. No one was as cute as Eddie. In the puppy-dog way, but also in the way that he wanted to put his comic down and lean over and kiss his cheek when they would lay in the hammock together.  
Now he was handsome. Ben was handsome in the most generic way. In the dictionary defenition of handsome, but not in the way that Eddie was. He was handsome in his way. In the way that gave Richie butterflies. In the way that made Richie wanna stand up and slow dance with him right there with everyone watching. He thought he said something about slow dancing in his love letter. He didn't remember, but maybe it was in there.  
But, there. Eddie was married.  
It was okay. Richie would just give it to him later. He'd give the letter to him later. He'd see him later. It was okay. 

...

Stan was dead. 

...

It was a small townhouse. Definitely captured the essence of Derry. Richie wasn't fully convinced he'd even end up staying there that night, but of course he got convinced. He was a sheep. Once he knew what they were there to do, once he'd remembered completely, he didn't want to stay. He didn't think he was strong enough to be able to fight something like that. He had his own battles to fight. He was having enough trouble as it was. He couldnt take it. He didn't think he could. But he was here. He was gonna do his fucking best because as much as he didn't want to admit it, this _was_ his battle. Even if he'd forgotten about it, he made a promise decades ago that this would be his battle and he'd be here with Bill and Beverly and Ben and _Eddie_ and Mike and Stan.  
Not Stan.  
Stan was dead.  
That word was starting to lose its meaning. 

He was going to give Eddie the letter. Maybe before they went to bed. He didn't care Eddie was married, it didn't change his feelings. Didn't change the fact that all the words he wrote in the letter were true. Eddie didn't have to feel the same way. He just wanted Eddie to know. They might be dead soon, who fucking knew. Eddie needed to know before he went back home. But Eddie was already going upstairs to go to bed. Richie couldn't go in there. It was rude. He couldn't do it that night.  
It was okay. Richie would just give it to him later. He'd give the letter to him later. He'd see him later. It was okay. 

...

It was terrifying.

...

Richie cried himself to sleep because he was gay.  
That was something that used to happen when he was little. When he was ashamed.  
He felt ashamed.  
God, did he feel ashamed. His dirty little secret.  
The letter was on his nightstand. He almost ripped it up. His hands were on it, as tears streamed down his face. Overdue, his ass. It wasn't overdue. It was a secret because it was dirty and Richie loved Eddie and he was ashamed and it was a secret for a reason and Eddie was married to a woman just like Richie should be. Richie didn't like girls. He didn't like girls, ever. He liked boys. He liked Eddie.  
Richie slept with a few girls in college. He always cried afterwards.  
Shame. Shame on him. Shame on Richie Tozier. He was in love with his best friend. He was in the other room. Sleeping, probably. Richie wanted to sleep beside him.  
He had to ask himself if it was worth all of the pain. He asked himself if anybody else was feeling this pain. Having to live through their memories. What a stupid fucking word. It mocked him.  
He cried for Eddie and he cried for himself and his letter and he cried for his friends and he cried for Stan and he cried for Stan and he cried and he cried and cried and cried cried cried cried 

...

He had to keep Eddie safe. No selfishness behind it. Eddie deserved to go back home to his wife and his house and his normal life. Eddie was scared and Richie was going to keep him safe. He'd made that promise to himself when he was little. Eddie scraped his knee when he was riding a bike and Richie took care of him even though it was minor. Eddie cried when he scraped his knee, and he was scared. Scared of things that some people might see as foolish, but Richie didn't mock him over it. He took care of him that day and then promised himself that he'd take care of Eddie and keep him safe. He knew Eddie was brave, but he didn't want him to have to be brave. He didn't want Eddie to cry again. It was inevitable. He saw Eddie cry a few more times after that, but he was always there for him.  
The letter was in his back pocket. Wasn't that funny?  
When they were in the sewer.  
When he and Eddie were fighting.  
When they were all fighting.  
When he and Eddie were alone. He actually thought about handing it to him, while being chased by a killer alien clown.  
He was going to tell him he loved him right there.  
It was okay. Richie would just give it to him later. He'd give the letter to him later. He'd see him later. It was okay.

...

He wasn't right beside him when he died.

...

Eddie died alone. While his friends were fighting. He was alone. Not even in arms length reach of anyone. They had left him.  
He was so brave.  
Richie sobbed for him. He'd left him. He'd let him leave this world completely alone. He wasn't there for him. He wasn't there like he promised he'd be.  
He was so, so brave.  
He wanted to save his friends. He was so proud, too. Richie was proud of him. Never been prouder.  
It should've been him.

...

Eddie died alone. Richie was there, next to his dead body, sobbing for him. They tried to pull him away. Pull him away from his love. His baby. Eddie was his. He didn't care about anything else. Whoever in the world thought that they had Eddie. They were wrong. Eddie was his. Eddie was made for him. Richie was Eddie's. Eddie had his heart. Eddie held his heart, and he died holding it in his hands. When Eddie died, Richie died, too. Richie was dead the moment that Eddie was. There was nothing else in the entire world for him to live for. His throat and eyes stung. He'd never cried that hard before. He wanted to lay next to him. Wrap him up and kiss his head. Tell him good night. Tell him how lucky he felt for his soulmate to be someone like him. Someone like Eddie. Good night. Good night, honey. Good night, my baby. I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you when things were better.  
He had to leave him. He was cursed with staying alive. He had to stay alive. He'd never forgive his friends for that.

...

He'd forgotten the letter was in his back pocket until he was packing up his things. Overdue. 

...

He wished he could say that he read the letter at his funeral. Finally put the words out there, out into existance. So at least someone knew. Read it at his funeral to spite his wife. He didn't read it. He never even opened it again. Wished he could say he put it in his grave, read it to him once he was buried. God, not even buried. They didn't have a body. It was an empty casket they buried, because they insisted on giving him one. Richie didn't read it to him. He shredded it. At home. Put it to rest. If there was a heaven, then Eddie was up there. Eddie knew that Richie loved him. Wherever he was, Richie knew he could feel it. That's what he had to tell himself, at least. That Eddie knew. Eddie probably never did know. 

...

Richie never loved anyone again.  
He didn't try to.  
He didn't try to pretend he was healed.  
He did his best. Throughout the years. Parts of him healed. But never completely.  
No one expected him to heal.  
He never once was glad, either. Glad to be alive. He smiled. He was happy to be around his friends, when they'd visit. But he was never happy that he was alive and Eddie wasn't.  
Never again, he was happy for being alive. 

...

He wrote a new letter. It was shorter. He was older, and grief had made tracks upon his skin that he couldn't erase. His story was told without a word needing to be spoken. Anyone who saw him, they could tell. Maybe not all the details. Maybe that he was in pain.  
But he wrote a new letter. By hand, that time.  
No one got to know what it said. He learned that fewer words could convey the same amount of feeling as a lot of words. He wasn't wiser, as an old guy. There were no valuable lessons he learned. Nothing came of losing his love. He didn't learn any lessons, didn't have any advice to give anyone.  
He didn't take the letter to Eddie's grave, but he kept it that time.  
He kept it right beside his bed. Didn't hide it. He wasn't ashamed of his love. Honestly, it was the only right thing he'd ever done. Love Eddie Kaspbrak. He was good at that. He was good at loving him long after he was gone. He had a lot of love to give, you know. And it never ran out. 

...

It was okay. Richie would just give it to him later. He'd give the letter to him later. He'd see him later. It was okay.

...

He'd see him later.


End file.
